


Our Troubles Weren't So Different

by Vicki Hessel Werkley (HowNovel)



Category: Starman (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1988-05-14
Updated: 1988-05-14
Packaged: 2017-11-07 18:30:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/434085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HowNovel/pseuds/Vicki%20Hessel%20Werkley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A different take on "Peregrine" - from Waldo's point of view!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Our Troubles Weren't So Different

Our Troubles Weren’t So Different  
by Vicki Hessel Werkley  
May 1988

Settle yourselves now, my children. Be comforted by the bits of flesh in your bellies and the warmth of my feathers. Sleep now.

A story? Very well, then. Would you like to hear a new one? A special story I’ve been saving until you were old enough to understand... to appreciate it? Yes, perhaps now is a good time for you to learn about The Man.

I remember well the day we met. That morning was especially fine, with a certain beauty and purity that always tempts one to forget about hunting and to fly for the sheer joy of it. Explain that more? You’ll know some day, little one — all of you. Now, listen....

I swooped down along the canyon where the river twists among the trees and tumbles brown and green and blue and white around the sharp grey rocks. I delighted in the feel of the wind slipping past me and in the fall of sunlight on moving leaves and living water, its touch warm and golden on my back and wings.

Soon I saw the campground below me; you’ll learn it’s a good place to find dinner. Many birds go there to feed on the refuse of careless humans. I circled a bit and saw some fine, fat doves cooing over a scattering of crumbled bread. As I’d hoped, my interest made them nervous, and they flew up, alarmed. I climbed high above them as they wheeled about in uncertainty. I picked a target and began my long, silent stoop down toward him.

Ah, that feel of the wind’s rush by me as I hurtled toward him, extending my legs so the long back toes could make a clean kill: quick and merciful.

But he proved wary and agile, shifting course erratically. Fine; I love a challenge. I went after him. My error in judgment came because my attention was so focused on following his flight and because at that moment, flying rather low to the ground, I was distracted by a noisy gaggle of humans. A quick glance told me it was only fingers they pointed, not those weapons that throw small, stinging objects.

But in that moment of broken concentration, I shifted course slightly and—too late—saw the strand of wire whistling toward me. I hit it hard.

Oh, yes, there was pain. I fell — fluttering, stunned — and hit the earth with an impact that grabbed away my breath. Lurching to my feet, I found I could move my wings but couldn’t leave the ground. I was helpless! And then the humans came running and crowded in a close circle around me, jabbering.

I held myself as defiantly as I could. Glaring my challenge, I used my voice and sharp beak to tell them I was fearless and ready to battle for my life.

What? Of course I was terrified, little one. And dizzy and in pain. But I would not let _them_ know that. Humans cannot be trusted, remember. Some moments seem to freeze in time and this was one of those. How could I protect myself and escape? What would happen to me if the weakness and confusion overwhelmed me and I lost consciousness?

It was then I felt a new and forceful presence near me. I glanced that way and saw The Man. To look at him, he appeared like any other human, but from that first moment I knew he was very different from the rest of them. It was his eyes that drew me in. Those eyes! Such power and wisdom and gentleness seemed impossible to find in one being, yet I had no doubt he possessed it all.

Then a strange sensation began. Gently, respectfully, a part of my energy —my very essence — seemed drawn away from me, into him, and I knew he was somehow able to sense everything I felt and feared. But even before I could begin to feel alarmed at my sudden vulnerability, my energy was returned, and with it came a wave of his own soul’s essence, washing over me with impressions of who he was at the core of his being.

Such questions you ask, little ones! What was it like? What was _he_ like? Nothing I’ve ever encountered before, nothing I could describe or explain to anyone else, something so _beyond_ all that is known to me.... Ah, well, the easiest thing to say is: I knew he understood me, he cared, he would help me. I knew he wouldn’t hurt me.

So when he crouched down and held out his hand to me — while the other humans made fearful, disbelieving noises — I merely hopped up onto that hand and gave over my trust to him entirely.

Yes, it felt odd to perch there on living flesh. Not an easy foothold like the bare rock of our eyrie or a good, solid fencepost — or even the perhaps unpredictable swing of a wire in the wind. I gripped his hand with care, suddenly understanding that my talons would pierce his flesh if I held him as I would a fencepost. And that was a strange thing: realizing it mattered a great deal to me that I not harm him in any way. He rose carefully to his full height as we each worked to find our balance with the other. So it was I found myself perched delicately on the limb of one who should be my sworn enemy.

He moved away from the suddenly noisy again humans, but one of them followed. This one, too, felt different from the others, yet unlike The Man as well.

Explain that? Some things are not that simple to explain. When you go out in the world and make contact with other creatures, you’ll learn that the energies of life move in different ways through different species — and through individuals within those species.

This other one, a young male, had a flow of energies that seemed to lie somewhere between that of the humans and that of The Man. As soon as I watched the two together, I knew this was The Man’s offspring, and I sensed the bond between them was unusually close. I came to think of the other one as The Fledgling — a youngster eager to fly and prove himself but as yet lacking skills and wisdom he would need to be truly independent.

They communicated as humans do, speaking words, but there was more, a sharing of other understandings between them. And even though The Man’s attention was on his Fledgling — and then distracted briefly by another human’s interruption — still he was aware that a tremor of exhaustion and weakness made me lift my wings to better balance myself.

His other hand moved close over my back, ready to support me if I began to fall. And when he touched the feathers of my back — such a gentle, gentle touch — strength and calm flowed back into me, and I found my balance.

I went with them as they walked, talking together, The Man and his Fledgling. Their pace was vexingly slow over a distance I could’ve flown in seconds. I pitied these poor humans their flightless lives, though they seemed unaware of their misfortune. I, however, was facing the possibility that I might never fly again. What if this man _couldn’t_ help me? A life without flight would be no life at all.

We approached some buildings, and I could sense the man’s relief. I was an awkward burden, weighing heavily on his hand and arm. I wished to free him of the strain, but when I realized he intended to take me _inside_ , panic flew up in me quick as a startled quail. I’d never been inside such a structure. Surely it was a trap!

Again he touched my back, and all the fear drained away. A truth resonated in every cell of my body and being: this Man I could trust with my life.

And it was fortunate I could feel that certainty, for what greeted us inside was enough to make any intelligent creature — a human, even — want to flee immediately.

The space was crowded with too many humans — males and females in that baffling array of sizes, shapes, colors, body coverings — and each held a creature in some state of unease, disease, or injury. And I must tell you, children, I noticed a curious thing. It was obvious, even without The Man’s awareness, that those humans were there because they cared deeply for the well being of their companions. This was a startling concept, worthy of further thought, but not in that moment, for little thought was possible at all.

When the door was first opened, I’d been immediately aware of the explosive atmosphere: the tension of too many creatures — already in pain and full of anxiety — finding themselves in uneasy proximity and without the guidelines of territorial boundaries or personal hierarchies. But then, when they all saw _us_ enter, the pent energies in the room burst loose into absolute chaos as every capable throat voiced its distress, and the frenzied cries ricocheted maddeningly through the confusion. And all of it focused on _us_.

Yes I probably should have been terrified, but 1 knew that The Man would protect me. I could feel his own consternation, and I knew he would make things right.

So it was. He lifted his open palm and swept it once around the room, making a soft shushing sound and uttering a single human word. Every creature in the room understood his call for silence. So clear and pure and respectful was it, no one needed to deny The Man his request. There was a sense, too, of gratitude that _someone_ had the power to call for order and get it. In the abrupt silence that followed, only the human creatures seemed surprised and disturbed by this power and its results. There is so much they do not understand.

Across the room one of the humans — a female I soon came to know as The Healer — motioned to us. and The Man carried me toward her, following her out of that room and into another. There they spoke together, and The Man’s touch reassured me enough that I allowed her to examine my wing, assessing the injury

I found that The Man could communicate his thoughts to me as well as his emotions. Through him I learned this female could mend my wing but I would have to stay with the humans until it was well.

We followed her again to another place, more frightening because it was lined with cages — small places of confinement that pretend not to be, allowing light and air to pass through but not creatures of any size. Many of these cages held prisoners: animals in various stages of healing ... but confused and lonely, left without the comfort of the humans who usually cared for them.

The Healer opened one of those cages, and it was clear she meant for The Man to put me inside. I felt — and shared — his hesitation, his apprehension. I had never been inside such a thing, but I could tell _he_ had and the experience had not been pleasant.

Despite that experience and his instinctive aversion to anything resembling a cage, he apparently trusted this Healer, and I could do nothing but cling to my trust in him. So I stepped from his hand onto a thin wooden perch — a sorry excuse for a branch — and the door was closed on my freedom. I stared out at him through those hateful bars, knowing that having made the decision, I could only wait to see what befell me.

I was almost too tired to care anyway. I watched as The Man moved about the room, studying the other prisoners and soothing them with his calm energy, which he could radiate in many ways and at will. He spoke with The Healer for a time, but my exhaustion overwhelmed me, and I plunged into sleep, clinging to an alien bit of tree in an alien environment.

The day passed. And then another. During that time The Man and The Healer came several times to care for all of us. I ate and slept and felt relief when his visits assured me I had not been abandoned.

Once he brought a large wooden container, and from it he took — to my great surprise — a number of small children, just like you, my dear ones, only much younger. How distressing! Where were their mothers? What was to become of them?

I sensed The Man was troubled too. As he worked cleaning the cages and feeding the prisoners, he studied me more often and at greater length than before, so I came to realize it was me he was concerned about, not the children.

He did not share his thoughts with me, but there was an aura of decision making about him. What? Well, how could you know? You’ve never had to make decisions yet, but it is something you must learn before you can leave our care. Making judgments and acting upon them wisely and quickly is what keeps us alive.

But there was no way of knowing then what decision he was trying to come to or how it involved me. I could only wait and hope the waiting was not long. The unknown can be more dreadful than the most fearsome of realities.

The answer came in the quiet time shortly before the next dawn, a time when humans rarely show themselves. The Man came alone into the place of prisoners and calmed the other creatures whose sleep he had disturbed.

He drew near my cage and my heart beat faster. It was clear he had made his decision , whatever it might be, there was a sense of rightness and purpose about him. When he opened the door, I went to him and stood on the odd perch he offered me — flat, round and softly cushioning beneath my feet.

The Man stood behind me, but I could still see him easily, of course. Poor humans with their eyes on the very fronts of their faces — so limiting. I waited, calm yet expectant. I knew something significant, perhaps extraordinary, was about to happen.

Again I felt the sensation of having my spirit drawn, like breath, into him and studied. He spoke to me then in human words, but at the same time, he exhaled my spirit back to me, and his own essence flowed with it, so that for the first and only time, I grasped the meaning of the words a human uttered:

**“You want to go back out there, don’t you?  
To be free.  
To race against the sky.  
Me too.  
Our troubles aren’t so different, are they?”**

And as the tide of words and meaning and spirit’s essence engulfed me, it brought with it his own great longing to be elsewhere. To be free. To race against the sky. There was a moment in which I was aware of a reality beyond the widest sky and freest wind and farthest flight I’ll ever know. Something beyond anything I can even imagine. And yes, our troubles weren’t so different in that longing to fly free, but I sensed, too, some contrast so great in those desires that it was beyond all but his comprehension.

And when he drew his own energy back into himself, I became aware that there was in him also some great sadness ... a poignant sense of aloneness ... and some of that stayed with me. I felt for him.

His hand moved upward then, and opened near my injured wing, revealing a small object of shining silver ... a sphere. In a moment, it began to glow with an eerie blue light, surprising in its warmth. I even turned my head for a closer look. What _was_ it? And how could _blue_ be _warm_? Blue is the color of cool water and shadows. Only the summer sky is both blue and warm, but even then it is the sunlight, not the sky, that makes the warmth.

As I was pondering all this, the blue glow surrounded me, and I felt strange sensations — heat and tingling in my wing, at the point of injury. No, it wasn’t painful in itself but so intense I could not keep still. I flexed my wings and my voice, allowing the energy to flow freely through me and be released.

Such power in that blue light! The strength, warmth, and well being that flooded into me were so great, I could _feel_ the bits of bone fusing together, mending every trace of damage.

And at last, I lifted my wings high, knowing they were healed and whole again, as strong as they had ever been — perhaps stronger.

The blue glow dimmed and winked out, and The Man put the sphere away somewhere. I looked over my shoulder at him, wondering ... many things.

He reached out a hand to me and with his soul asked if I would come with him. As I had the first day, I went without hesitation to his hand. I found it easy now to perch there. I was mended and strong, my equilibrium restored, and we had learned each other’s balancing points.

The Man took me out into the morning where the world was washed fresh with sunlight and the sweet air of freedom. How I longed to take wing immediately, before anything could imprison me again; I wanted to fly fast and far, to leave this place of humans forever. But instead — and I can’t explain why even to myself — I held to his hand and let him carry me where he would.

He did not hurry as he took me away from the buildings and out into the meadow. He moved almost reverently through the tall yellow wildflowers, as if aware that tiny creatures or plants might die beneath his feet.

When he came to a halt, he looked at me and then toward the sky — somehow he seemed to see past the sky I knew and to something he sensed lay beyond. He did not look back to me, but the communication flowed between us again: a sense of kinship and mutual respect and well wishes. He told me, then, **Go. Be free**. And I felt again his sadness that I would go and he could not.

The morning called me. I burst upward from his hand, reveling in the quick, strong beat of my wings against the yielding air.

A glance backward showed him shrinking below me, his eyes following my ascent. And even as my heart lifted in the joy of flight, it ached for that poor Earth bound man. I circled the field, climbing and swooping to show him my strength and rapture, calling out my thanks to him. When I felt satisfaction replacing his sadness, my heart was eased.

And then I was away! Eager to pick up the pattern of my life, to hunt my own food and sleep in my own niche high on the stony cliffs, to search for a suitable mate.

The end of the story.? Oh, no, dear ones, far from that. And yes, I thought that was the last I’d ever see of The Man, but I was wrong. In truth, it was only near the end of that same day when I became aware that I was being called.

Once again, it was something that’s impossible to describe or explain. No, it was nothing like a call any of us might use; it was not _heard_ but sensed in some other way. At first I was merely curious, but when I began to feel the glow and tingle, that strange but now familiar blue warmth, I knew who called me and that I must go.

I followed the call to another wide field and saw him there, The Man who had rescued and protected me, soothed and healed me, shared his soul’s longing and set me free.

He stood waiting for me, arm aloft; a blue white brilliance glowed in his hand like a tiny but powerful star.

I circled the field, my sharp eyes searching for danger. He was not alone. His Fledgling was there and The Healer, but they stood at some distance, and I knew neither of them presented a threat. I called out to The Man, questioning. He answered only that I should come to his hand. He asked that I trust him once again

It was a moment of grave decision, as I have described before. I hesitated for the space of another heartbeat and then swooped down in a long, sweet glide to alight with great care on his unprotected hand.

Why did I do it, you ask? Give my regained freedom — my very life — into his keeping? I had to. He had done me a great service, had set me free, and now he called me back. I knew there had to be an important reason. I trusted him. I _liked him_.

I felt his delight at my return as his other hand reached out to stroke the feathers of my back. He drew me closer against him, into the shelter and warmth of that powerful energy emanating from his body and being. And within the space of a few moments, the tide of our souls ebbed and flowed between us once again.

He inhaled my trust and questioning, then exhaled the answers, though I couldn’t understand it all at that time. He told me if I wanted to have a healthy fan lily one day, I must trade a few days’ freedom for it now, allow a small encumbrance to be strapped to my leg before I was released again. He said that there was a problem for my kind, and it came as no great surprise to me that humans were to blame. That because of their ignorance and use of poisons, the shells of my eggs would be too fragile to bear the weight of mothering.

How horrifying — that my own body and feet could kill my precious, hoped for children! But, The Man told me, when I had mated and my eggs were laid, someone called The Keeper would come and take them. I must wait, The Man cautioned, not abandon the nest. If I trusted him and waited, my children would be returned with a healthy start on life.

By the time he had told me all this, the Healer and The Fledgling were drawing near. Why must I trust a human — this Keeper, The Man spoke of’? Couldn’t my eggs be entrusted to _him_ I asked. **No, I must go, **he answered regretfully. **We are in danger and I seek my mate.******

The Fledgling and The Healer had arrived now — and another human, a tall male with fur on his upper lip. Even before The Man told me, I knew this was The Keeper. I went readily to his hand to prove my courage and my trust. I sensed his shock but also his years of experience and ease with my kind. He would do, I decided.

The Man attended to the awkward seeming business of human communication, and then only moments later, he and The Fledgling departed, walking when they needed to fly. With an unexpected sense of loss, I watched them go. They turned to look back once, and across the distance, The Man’s message came to me, **Fare well.** Somehow I knew in that moment he was a man of too many good byes.

Well, my dears, it all came to pass as The Man predicted. I was imprisoned for a few days, weighed and measured, my once damaged wing examined. Then they fitted this strange device about my leg. You’ve asked about it many times, and I’ve always said I’d tell you one day; now you know. At last I was released, and this time no one called me back.

As the weeks went by and my life unfolded as it should, at times I forgot what The Man had foretold. though I was occasionally reminded by the sight of The Keeper in the valley below, watching me through those objects humans have to use to aid their poor vision.

Life was good. I hunted. I slept. I found your father to my liking and we mated. One by one you arrived, each safe inside a beautiful speckled reddish shell. Then one day I returned to find you had been replaced by three impostor eggs — clever but not clever enough to fool me. My children had been stolen! Then I recalled what I’d wanted to forget — what I had half hoped would never happen — that you would be taken from me for a time. So I did as The Man had told me. I waited. Filled with trepidation and longing and hope, holding fast to my trust in that Man, I mothered those empty, mocking shells, and I waited.

I’d nearly abandoned that hope on the afternoon I returned from the hunt to find the three of you: beautiful, healthy — and hungry to share the plump duck I’d brought.

I tell you all this so that you will know, though it’s true humans are not to be trusted, there are some who wish us no harm and work to protect us. And if ‘s heartening to know there are humans trying to fix mistakes that’ve been made.

And I tell you, too, because your own families may one day have to be protected in this way. And you, too, must trust The Man and wait for your children to be returned to you.

What, little one? The Man? No, he has never returned. But I admit there have been moments when a tingling in my bones or the glowing sun’s warmth in a blue blue sky sometimes lifts my heart with the sudden hope it might be The Man calling me with his silver sphere.

Perhaps we will meet again one day and learn what life has brought us both. Has he found his mate, I wonder. Does danger still stalk him? Has he regained his freedom and the gift of flight?

At any rate, dear ones, you probably owe your life to him as I do, and I will never forget him. That Man touched my life and changed it forever.

The End


End file.
